


death

by Hope



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF, lotrips
Genre: AU, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-11-06
Updated: 2003-11-06
Packaged: 2017-10-02 13:29:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hope/pseuds/Hope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>http://www.livejournal.com/users/beachkid/147755.html<br/>http://hopeful-fiction.livejournal.com/12168.html</p></blockquote>





	death

this wasn't the first time billy had seen him. he didn't remember much of his childhood but there were moments in his memory that existed like spheres of water, perfect, held together, whole and contained. rushing towards the earth. the urine-smell of the dormitory, the starch-smell of the rough woolen blankets pulled up over his face, and the way the fibres clashed with his eyelashes as he tried not to move, not to breathe. bare feet on the bare floor of the orphanage, billy's frantically pounding heart the only sound. dirty-white nightgown like the rest of them but cleaner skin, the still lips and sharp nose and the moon-cast profile broken by the dipping of long lashes. billy shuddering with relief and despair as the figure settles on a bed two past billy's own, hand gliding through the air to settle on the shapeless lump huddled beneath.

another drop, inexorably falling: his sister's shoulder tight and trembling beneath his hand, watching the motionless, covered figures lifted with too much ease and he has to look away, can't close his eyes lest the stench of petrol and wet ashphalt _and something else_ overwhelm him, turning his head and tightening his grip and seeing that face splashed with erratic spills of blue and red light. seeing it not turn from the figures billy can't turn his eyes back to. even if he wanted to.

*

it was raining when he stepped out of the bar, the air clean and cold and after a few blocks and his shirt was gradually soaked through; he wasn't surprised to find that he's not walking alone. the rain doesn't seem to be touching him though billy's hair is now flattened and clinging to his skull; impossibly he has a cigarette, leisurely raising it to his mouth, flicking the ash off to the side in a shower of orange in the grey night. the black suit settles around his wrists like it's too big for him, but the mismatch of features - hair shorn close to his scalp, mouth too small, impossible lashes over white cheekbones - comes together perfectly in a way that billy has never forgotten. will never forget.

"What took you so long," billy breathes into the night, his breath white in the crisp air. the rain is slowing, the drops slow, fat and inexorable in their fatal descent. He turns to billy, meets his eyes, and smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> http://www.livejournal.com/users/beachkid/147755.html  
> http://hopeful-fiction.livejournal.com/12168.html


End file.
